Chapter 53: No Sorrow, No Joy, No Emotion, No Desire… What Was That Phrase… ‘Righteousness Over Family’?

Chapter 53: No Sorrow, No Joy, No Emotion, No Desire... What Was That Phrase... 'Righteousness Over Family'?

"The wind in this Demonic Realm is really strong."

Fu Yu was not happy at all.

This wind had blown her eyes red; anyone who didn't know better might think she was about to cry.

She trudged sullenly over to Jun Bu Du's side, then it suddenly dawned on her that something was off.

"...Deceased wife? What deceased wife?"

How did *she* become the 'deceased wife'?

*He* was the one who died! *He's* the 'deceased husband'!

Fu Yu gave Jun Bu Du a long, hard look. She saw his expression was calm, and when he spoke of his deceased wife, a faint, time-tempered warmth seemed to flicker in his otherwise inhumanly cold crimson eyes—a warmth like a still sea, windless and waveless yet unfathomably deep.

A chill ran down Fu Yu's spine, and her heart gave a faint shudder.

This fellow already had the visage of an immortal devoid of sorrow, joy, emotion, or desire. Now, having taken abstinence to an extreme, he gave off a vibe that felt like things had gone so far they'd reversed, giving her an inexplicable sense of dread, as if she were facing a fated enemy.

Fu Yu gave a light cough and hugged her arms.

Her instincts were never wrong. This Evil Spirit Jun Bu Du before her, seemed aloof, but the aura he radiated was overwhelmingly powerful. Being near him, she felt every strand of her hair was being violated.

A deep unease settled in her, her every instinct screaming *danger*.

"Evil Spirit. He is an Evil Spirit," she raised her eyebrows slightly. "If a fight broke out, he would definitely be even more vicious than before."

He was already a fierce fighter.

Now, his physique was even taller than before, his bones and skin as hard as forged steel, his aura indescribably powerful.

Fu Yu wasn't short for a human, but she only came up to Jun Bu Du's chest now.

She tilted her head, looking up at his profile.

It was a deadly angle. Fu Yu narrowed her eyes slightly, in a nitpicking mood, looking for flaws.

After a long moment, she looked away, dissatisfied, and let out a grudgingly appreciative "Tsk."

This guy was truly impeccable.

The two little demons asked curiously, "Great Shaman, Great Shaman, when did Fate Master seal the Evil Demon God?"

The little ones' eyes sparkled with eager light.

Fu Yu recognized one of them at a glance—the little round face whose head she had patted.

She raised her eyebrows smugly. See? A pat on the head from her was like a blessing. Kid was already part of Jun Bu Du's crew at his age.

Jun Bu Du tilted his head up, gazing toward the pale halo hidden behind the dark red clouds.

He replied, "Over two thousand years have passed."

Fu Yu blinked.

She recognized it. The 'sun' in the Demonic Realm's sky was not a real sun, but a Heavenly Scar—the projection of his life-bound Divine Sword, Nine Crossroads Dust, in this world.

He was using Nine Crossroads Dust to measure time.

The dream's timeline didn't match the real world's.

In the real world, over five thousand years had passed since the Salvation—the Divine Court, in order to erase the traces they had left, had deliberately blurred the timing of many events, but the broad strokes were correct.

Fu Yu gazed at Jun Bu Du and let out a soft sigh.

Even the Jun Bu Du in the dream was already an ancient being from three thousand years ago—no, an ancient Evil Spirit.

Even in the dream, it was a misalignment of life, death, time, and space.

She could feel that each time she entered the dream, the Jun Bu Du within was growing stronger. If another three thousand years passed, reaching the "present," she couldn't imagine how powerful he'd become.

This guy, when he was human, was a cultivation maniac; as an Evil Spirit, he naturally was a cultivation fiend.

Fu Yu chuckled at her own lame joke.

Jun Bu Du froze.

He slightly turned his pale, gaunt face. His long, lowered lashes concealed the color of his eyes as he tilted his ear and jaw, as if listening for something in the wind.

Fu Yu followed his gaze curiously, scanning their surroundings.

What was he listening for?

Jun Bu Du suddenly spoke, his voice soft and hoarse: "Fu Yu, is that you?"

Fu Yu's breath hitched.

After a long while, she stared, stunned. "It's me. Can you hear me?"

She waved her hand vigorously right in front of his eyes.

His gaze went right through her hand.

He couldn't see her, nor could he hear her response.

Right. Thousands of years lay between her and the dream version of him.

"I forgot," he said. The last trace of a smile vanished from his eyes, his tone utterly flat. "Emperor Witch Fate Master loathes evil. If she encounters Evil Spirits, she only kills, never spares."

He was an Evil Spirit.

If she saw him, she should execute him.

He stood up. His imperial robes swayed, and his tall, solitary figure vanished into the far distance.

Fu Yu stood there, stunned and lost.

"I mean... do you have some misunderstanding about me?"

Do I really look like someone who would prioritize righteousness over family ties?

The flying vessel jolted. Fu Yu slowly opened her eyes.

The lingering emotions from the dream made her sigh. Shifting her gaze, she met several pairs of anxious eyes.

"Master, we're almost there!"

Fu Yu pressed her temples, collected herself, and peered out from the window.

The Mountain Protection Array of the Qingyun Sect looked like a glowing bowl turned upside down over the mountain. The cultivators under Ghost Lingjun’s command had been laying siege for a long time without success, with intense shockwaves of spiritual energy bursting in the air from time to time.

After a moment's thought, Fu Yu raised her hand. “Stop.”

The flying vessel slowly descended into the mountains.

Fu Yu prepared a reversal array on the vessel, disembarked, and signaled Li Xueke to lift the vessel into the air.

Alone, she walked forward, putting on a ghost mask, throwing on Ghost Lingjun’s outer robe, and fanning herself with the folding fan taken from Lord Zhiwei’s corpse as she approached the mountain gate of the Qingyun Sect step by step.

One moment… two moments… three moments…

Fu Yu: My mistake!

The mountain looked deceptively close. She had parked the flying vessel too far away, and the long walk left her exhausted, panting heavily, hands on her knees.

Finally, she reached a suitable position.

After resting briefly, Fu Yu laid down another reversal array beneath her feet.

Then, she took a deep breath, gathered ample spiritual power, and taunted toward the Qingyun Sect’s mountain gate, “My minions! It’s time to stop!”

With a flick of her divine sense, the puppet technique stirred the Yellow-robed Cultivators.

The Yellow-robed Cultivators assaulting the Mountain Protection Array felt a strange pang. As they stood bewildered, they heard what sounded like their Lord’s voice drifting from afar, echoing eerily through the mountains.

“My minions—ions—ions!”

“It’s time to stop—op—op!”

The lead Yellow-robed Cultivator gave a sharp whistle, and everyone simultaneously broke off their assault. Waves of spiritual energy struck empty air.

Turning around, they saw Ghost Lingjun standing alone in the mountains, gaunt and ghostly, holding a sword as if it were mere scrap.

“The Lord has returned? My Lord!”

Ghost Lingjun’s body swayed like a kite in the wind as he let out a strange, cackling laugh. “That brat Zhiwei has been slain by this Lord’s hand! Today, we shall let them off. Give them three days to hand over Xie Fuyu safe and sound—then we head back!”

The Yellow-robed Cultivators nodded solemnly. “Yes!”

Who would have thought that Patriarch Qingyun would fall so quickly at the Lord’s hands!

The Lord’s divine skills must have reached a new level!

Filled with awe and fear, the Yellow-robed Cultivators teleported toward “Ghost Lingjun.” Halfway there, they saw the Lord wave his wide sleeves and vanish into thin air.

No spiritual energy disturbance, no residual shadows, not a trace of teleportation.

Truly elusive and unfathomable as ghosts and gods.

Only Lord Zhiwei’s Life-bound Sword remained on the ground.

The Yellow-robed Cultivators gasped, eyes downcast, not daring to harbor even a hint of curiosity.

Chaos erupted within the Qingyun Sect.

Watching the Yellow-robed Cultivators retreat like a tide, with Ghost Lingjun’s sinister voice echoing incessantly in their ears, the Qingyun Sect members felt like the end of the world had arrived.

“The Patriarch… has been murdered!”

Sect Master Jiang Yizhou’s vision darkened, her fingers trembling so violently she could barely grip her sword. “How could this be! Impossible, I refuse to believe it. What do you all think?”

Silence enveloped those around her.

In a life-and-death duel between two Dongxuan Cultivators, only one returned… and the Life-bound Sword was discarded like trash outside the mountain gate.

What more was there to guess about the outcome?

Elder Muyun said, “The Patriarch had just awakened when you forced him onto the battlefield, Jiang Yizhou. The responsibility for the Patriarch’s fall lies entirely with you!”

The Sect Master closed her eyes and spoke word by word. “Must you stir internal strife at a time like this?”

Elder Muyun sneered. “Dare you deny that you pressured the Patriarch into battle?”

The atmosphere grew heavy, making it difficult to breathe.

Perfected Person Suwen intervened to mediate. “Ghost Lingjun didn’t press the attack further, likely because he suffered significant injuries.”

The Sect Master inhaled, suppressing her emotions as she spoke gravely. “Yes. Even in death, the Patriarch would have made Ghost Lingjun pay a heavy price. Isn’t that right?”

This time, a scattered few responded. “Yes.”

Fu Yu and her companions quietly blended into the crowd.

Seeing the somber mood, the culprits exchanged silent glances, trying to minimize their presence.

Ghost Lingjun’s words still echoed in their ears.

Three days to hand over Xie Fuyu…

The Sect Master looked at Fu Yu with a complex gaze. “Xie Fuyu.”

Fu Yu declared with self-sacrificing resolve, “Sect Master, do not be troubled. I will go!”

The crowd sighed and stamped their feet in dismay.

Someone gritted their teeth and said, “Let’s fight them to the death! What kind of solution is handing someone over like this?”

Fu Yu quickly reassured them. “It’s fine, I’ll truly be fine.”

Seeing her disregard for life and death while forcing a smile to comfort everyone only deepened the listeners’ sorrow.

The Sect Master’s delicate brows furrowed tightly as she raised her hand. “I will personally go to the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance. The Divine Court has gone too far. If the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance stands idly by, today it is our Qingyun Sect suffering—who knows who will be next tomorrow!”

With a sweep of her wide sleeves, she stepped into the clouds.

The Foxtail Grass Spirit and Wu He exchanged a covert glance, communicating silently.

—So our master intends to drag the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance into this mess too, right? Right?

—Devious, truly devious!

Qingyun Sect’s Sect Master Jiang Yizhou bravely headed to the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance, risking interception and assassination by Ghost Lingjun.

It would be a lie to say she wasn’t nervous.

Yet, long-suppressed anger and battle fervor had been forced to the surface. At times, she couldn’t help but think recklessly—if Ghost Lingjun appeared, she would burn her soul and fight him to the bitter end!

Only when her feet finally touched the ground of the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance, and she followed the young attendant through layers of courtyards, arriving before the Hall of Three Treasures, did she finally realize her spine had long been stretched taut, like a bow that had lost its elasticity.

Jiang Yizhou kept her composure, slowly exhaling a long breath through her nostrils.

"Sect Master of Qingyun Sect, Lesser Shangqing requests an audience."

Hearing the attendant's summons, Jiang Yizhou gave an involuntary shudder.

It had never crossed her mind that today she would meet one of the three alliance leaders of the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance.

Her heart quivered in her chest, and for a moment, she was flooded with a feeling strangely like grievance.

The Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance was foremost among the hundred immortal sects. When it was first established, part of its purpose was to counterbalance the Divine Court—if the myriad immortal sects were nothing but a disorganized rabble, they would be at the mercy of a behemoth like the Divine Court.

The three strongest demi-gods in the world banded together to lead the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance, taking the title of the Lesser Three Purities and holding the seal of the immortal sects.

Let alone outsiders, even the senior Dao Masters within the Ten Thousand Immortals Alliance rarely caught a glimpse of the true faces of the Lesser Three Purities.

The last time Jiang Yizhou came to borrow the Retrospective Light, she was only received by a Treasure-Keeper Daoist under one of the twelve Dao Masters.

She calmed her breath, smoothed the wrinkles in her sleeves, focused her mind, and step by step ascended the hundred-step jade-colored staircase, entering the majestic treasure hall that loomed like a mountain before her.

"Dong..."

The toll of a bell echoed as if through an empty valley, its chime resonating with the Primordial Beginning.

Lotus wheels turned; the essence of the Dao flowed like liquid gold.

Jiang Yizhou swallowed hard, placed her hands at her forehead, and performed a deep bow toward the Dharma Form of the immortal behind the layers of curtains.

"Disciple Jiang Yizhou of Qingyun Sect pays respects to Lesser Shangqing."

A grand, ethereal voice descended, its tone surprisingly amiable: "Sect Master Jiang, please speak."

Jiang Yizhou gathered her thoughts, suppressing the trembling in her heart, and recounted the various misdeeds committed by Ghost Lingjun.

She did not embellish, merely stating the facts.

Behind the curtains, Lesser Shangqing remained silent for a rather long time.

Finally, he asked: "After Ghost Lingjun killed Lord Zhiwei, he came to your sect to provoke?"

She couldn't tell if it was her imagination, but Jiang Yizhou had the strange feeling that the other was asking, "Are you sure this person isn't dead?"

She replied: "Yes. He forced us to hand over an innocent Foundation Establishment disciple. He once falsely accused this disciple of killing his wife."

Lesser Shangqing was silent once more.

"The Divine Court," Lesser Shangqing paused, "sigh, the Divine Court is acting so recklessly, I fear even greater chaos is yet to come, sigh."

The world-weary, heavy sigh made Jiang Yizhou's heart tremble.

Lesser Shangqing: "Enough, you may return. Regarding the Divine Court, I will keep an eye on it."

The other seemed to suppress another sigh.

Jiang Yizhou pressed further: "Then what about my sect's disciple, Xie Fuyu..."

"Sigh," Lesser Shangqing said, "Life and death are fated. Let her handle it herself."

Worrying about that god of slaughter—you'd be better off watching your own back, sigh!